An Unnamed Revelation
by Electric Light Shadow Boxer
Summary: The eighth in the Unnamed series. A turning point has arrived in their relationship. Bad things happen when an alcoholic is denied alcohol for an extended period of time and Eliot just might be too tired to pick up the pieces.
1. Chapter 1

TITLE: An Unnamed Revelation 1/3

AUTHOR: Electric Light Shadowboxer

RATING: PG13 for some bad language.

CATEGORY: Slash

PAIRING: Nate/Eliot

DISCLAIMER: I do not own, nor am I associated with Leverage. No copyright infringement intended. This little piece of insanity was written for fun, not profit. I make no money. Literally.

SUMMARY: The eighth in the Unnamed series. A turning point has arrived in their relationship. Bad things happen when an alcoholic is denied alcohol for an extended period of time and Eliot just might be too tired to pick up the pieces.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Takes place after The 12 Step Job and bridges the gap to The First David Job. Contains spoilers. Note that this series follows the order of episodes on the season 1 DVD's instead of actual broadcast order.

AUTHOR'S NOTE 2: I often jokingly call my muse a dominatrix. Truth is she's a harsh mistress. So while I was bound and gagged in the corner, she wrote this one herself. Seriously, this story follows a different format than the previous ones in this series. While the others were merely codas, this one includes fill in the blanks. It's a two for one! Hope you enjoy.

Eliot slammed his cell phone down on the exercise mat he was sitting on. He'd just gotten off the phone with Nate and he wasn't at all happy. Using the neck of his tee shirt, he wiped at the sweat running into his eyes. He'd begged Nathan not to take any client meetings just now. It was too much.

He stood and kicked at the heavybag, trying to work out some of his frustration on a safe target.

Nathan needed a break. Lately, it had been one thing after another, most of it alcohol related. Nathan was drinking more and more, eating less, and lately he'd started looking very unhealthy. If he didn't slow down there wasn't going to be anything left to stitch back together. But Nathan refused to rest. It was like if he didn't keep constantly moving he would fall apart.

Besides, the moment he'd heard about this client he'd had a bad feeling. As a hitter, he'd learned that sometimes you just needed to trust your gut. But Nathan was a stubborn son of a bitch and he didn't believe in anything he couldn't see or touch. So Eliot's gut feelings were dismissed.

Eliot stretched out his muscles and took a drink of water from the bottle sitting by the blue mat. The thought occurred to him that he could just refuse. He could just not show up. He could take a vacation or maybe take that job offer he had in South Africa. Not for good, but just for a while. He could get a little breathing space. He felt like Nathan's alcoholism was drowning him. It would be good to get away. But if he did that, he'd be leaving the rest of the team in the lurch. They didn't deserve that. He sighed and glanced at the clock on the wall. If he was going to meet the team at the office he needed to get a shower.

* * *

The glaring LA sun was beating down on them as they walked away from the nearing sirens. Nate rubbed at his brow, wishing he had his sunglasses. "Okay, so we just need a rehab facility. Sophie, you'll need to go in as a therapist or psychologist, whatever places like that use. Parker, you go in as a patient to back up Sophie and get close to Hurley." The sirens were growing closer and Nate glanced over his shoulder to make sure they were out of sight.

Hardison cleared his throat. "Actually there's a rehab facility not far from here. It's uh, over on third. It's called Second Life or something like that."

Eliot glared at Hardison, lip curled. "Second Life is a video game, Hardison."

Hardison bobbed his head from side to side. "Technically it's a virtual world. There are no goals or objectives. And how would you even know that, Mr. as long as I don't have to type nothing?"

Eliot stepped forward, a growl of menace trickling from his throat. "My nephew likes it."

Nathan shook his head and continued to walk away from the scene, trying to get his team as far away from the accident as possible. "Okay, we'll let the authorities take Hurley for now. Hardison you get admission papers drawn up for Hurley and credentials for Sophie."

Sophie stepped in front of Nathan, stopping him. Ever since Nathan had mentioned a rehab facility her own brain had been spinning furiously. She couldn't believe an opportunity like this was falling into her lap. It was perfect. This was her chance to get Nate off the booze. "You know, Parker will be useful. But, she can't room with Hurley. We need a man in there to get close to him, to become his confidant."

Nathan blinked down at her. She had a point. A male would be useful. He nodded. "Fine. Hardison can go in as the other patient."

Hardison started shaking his head. "What? Hell no."

Sophie stared up at Nate. "I think it should be you."

Nate shook his head, started to say something but Sophie cut him off.

"We might need Hardison for tech back up. He can't do that in a secure ward. Besides, you have far more experience working the con than Hardison does."

Nate glanced over at Eliot who had been strangely quiet. He smelled a set up. He just couldn't figure out how they'd gotten Hurley to wreck the car on cue. But, if anyone could do it, it would be his team. "You two been talking behind my back?"

Eliot scowled a little but managed to keep his face mostly impassive. Why the hell would he be talking to Sophie? He frowned harder. Since he'd been with Nate he'd started reading up on Alcoholism, and while he wasn't an expert, he knew that paranoia was not a good sign. It could mean that Nate was on the verge of an alcohol induced psychotic episode.

Sophie shook her head, a bit confused. "What?"

Nathan seemed to realize that everyone was looking at him and quickly got on the offensive, diverting their attention. He smirked down at Sophie. "You think I can't do this." He pushed past her and kept walking toward his car. "This is not about me, Sophie. This is about Hurley."

She caught up with him, leaving the team to trail behind them. "I didn't say anything about it being about you, Nate. But I must say you're getting awfully defensive for someone who doesn't have a problem."

Nathan stopped again in the middle of the parking lot, turning to her, raising his voice. "I can stop whenever I want."

Sophie just quirked her eyebrow, arms crossed over her midsection.

Nathan licked his lips, turning to stare at the rest of the team but they just stared back, faces blank. He wasn't receiving any help there. He turned back to Sophie and sneered. "Fine. We'll do this," He turned and yelled at the rest of the team. "And then everyone can just get off my back."

Eliot remained impassive but both Hardison and Parker flinched. Sophie nodded. "Fine."

Nathan turned away from her, irritated. "Eliot, you're with me. You'll have to take me in, pretend you're family or something." He started back to the car. "The rest of you need to hurry. Sophie needs to get down to the jail with the admission papers."

* * *

Eliot leaned in the doorway of the bedroom and watched as Nathan packed his bag. He wouldn't be allowed to keep most of it but Eliot supposed that didn't matter. They'd confiscate what he couldn't keep at the nurses' station. Eliot watched as every once in a while, Nathan would stop his packing and take a hit off of the bottle of Jameson on the bedside table.

Eliot crossed his arms in front of his chest. He was torn. He really wanted Nathan to quit drinking. He couldn't stand seeing what the alcohol was doing to him anymore. It wasn't just tearing Nathan apart; it was tearing Eliot apart as well. Still, he was worried about the withdrawal that would come. He really hadn't seen anyone go through serious withdrawal. He'd seen movies, but movies weren't like real life. He did know it was supposed to be painful. If not done correctly it could even be life threatening. And he wouldn't be there to help him through it, to make sure that he was okay. But it was more than that. He didn't think Nathan was going into this with a clear head. Nate had no idea what was going to happen. He was still, very firmly, in denial.

He sighed and ran a hand over his face. Nathan shouldn't be going into this blind. "I don't think you clearly understand what you're getting yourself into here. This is . . . it's going to be hard. You need to realize that."

Nathan looked up from zipping his bag. "What?" He shook his head. "Eliot, I'm not going to rehab. I'm playing a part here. It'll be fine." He walked over to Eliot and leaned in to lay a kiss on his lips.

Eliot didn't stop him but he didn't unfold his arms either. When Nate pulled away he opened his eyes again. "You're not going to be able to take the alcohol in with you."

Nate pulled back, blinked at him. "Eliot, I'm not an alcoholic. I'll be fine." He went back and grabbed his bag off the bed before taking another drink. He turned around and Eliot was right there.

Eliot grabbed Nathan when he turned. He ate hungrily at Nathan's lips, trying to crawl deeper inside. It was part goodbye and part delay tactic.

Eliot tried to shut the taste of bourbon out. The taste was always present, but it never really got any easier. He pulled away, breathing hard. He put his forehead against Nathan's, trying to anchor himself in the here and now. The fear of what was about to happen wasn't making staying in the present any easier. He was afraid that he was going to slip into the past and lose himself.

Nathan leaned forward, oblivious to Eliot's inner turmoil, and pressed his lips back to his lovers. "I'm going to miss you. That's what's going to be hard. I hate it when we have jobs that take us away from each other."

Eliot ignored the anxiety pressing like bees in his stomach. He pressed himself in closer to Nathan, feeling his groin stir as Nathan rubbed against his belly. He attacked his lips again, pulling the bottom one into his mouth, sucking and working it with his teeth. He ran his hands under his shirt, up Nathan's back, gliding over the skin, feeling the bones underneath. Eliot closed his eyes and burrowed his nose into Nathan's neck, breathing in the scent of him. He wanted to remember the feel of Nathan in his arms, the way he smelled.

He turned them so Nathan's back was to the bed and shoved him down. Eliot crawled up between his knees and pressed himself against his lover. Whatever else went down, he'd know he'd shown Nathan he was loved.

* * *

Eliot could feel the muscle in his jaw jump from clenching his teeth. He kept his fingers curled into his palms, fists clenched to his side. It's the only way he can keep from hitting something. He hates this! He feels so damn useless. It doesn't matter that he knows this needs to happen. All he can think about is how Nate is in pain; how he's suffering. And there's not a damn thing he can do about it.

The walk back to the car is silent and tense; the hot LA sun only making Eliot feel more miserable. He can't get the picture of Nathan pale and fidgeting out of his mind. It wasn't like he hadn't expected it. But the knowledge didn't make it any easier. And he was pissed at himself, wondering when he'd turned into such a damn girl. When he saw Nathan like that the only thing he could think was that he'd get him a drink. He'd get him anything to take the pain away. It was fucked up.

Before Nathan, he wouldn't have given second thought to making an alcoholic toe the line. He would've had no mercy when it came to seeing one in the throes of withdrawal. It was Nathan's fault. He'd crawled under his skin and invaded him, turning his own feelings against him. He could even take it so far as to equate him with a cancer. So many times he'd thought about excising him, like an unwanted growth. The problem was, Nathan was unwanted. He fucking craved him the way Nathan craved booze. Yeah, fucked up was the word for it.

Hardison let them into the car and they sat in silence. Eliot turned to glare at Hardison when he didn't start the car. "Are we going or not?"

Hardison shook his head and turned to look at the man in his passenger seat. "Man, Nate looks bad."

Eliot glared over at Hardison, willing his teeth to unclench. Finally, he just grunted. He couldn't think of anything else to say that would be remotely coherent right now. Besides, he didn't want to talk about how bad his fucking lover looked. No, Sir. They just needed to get a move on. The sooner they got this job finished, the sooner Nate could come back home.

Hardison pushed the button to start the car, drumming his fingers on the wheel. "Did you see how he couldn't sit still?"

Eliot remained quiet. He was using every bit of self-control not to smack Hardison's face right off his head.

Hardison tuned the radio to a station he hoped wouldn't annoy the hitter too much, kept it low. "Did you see how pale he was? I mean, I've seen some pale white guys before, but I've never seen anyone that pale."

Eliot reached out and slammed the button for the radio, causing the car to fall silent. "Yeah, Hardison, I saw. You want to shut the fuck up and drive?" The growl came out of Eliot's throat raw and deep.

Hardison swallowed. He knew that Eliot was just this side of smacking him like he'd smacked the radio button. He threw the car into gear and drove out of the rehab parking lot. He remained quiet for a while, worrying his lip. Something had been bothering Eliot since the very beginning of this job. He's been surly, well, more so than usual, and downright freaking scary. He can't quite put his finger on it but he thinks it has something to do with Nathan. Hell, he's worried about their mastermind too. Has been for a while. He knows Eliot and Nate are close, have been since day one. Maybe that's it.

Hardison cleared his throat, feeling a bit like he's sticking his neck on the chopping block, but unable to keep quiet. "You think he'll be okay?"

Eliot remained quiet for a long time before he finally swallowed down the bile churning in his gut. "I'm sure he'll be fine."

* * *

They both watched as Sophie walked out of the office to go back to the rehab center. Hardison crossed his arms over his chest and looked down at his shoes. Eliot ran his fingers through his hair before covering his face with his hands, elbows on knees. The office remained quiet a few moments, still. Then the explosion came.

"God damn it!" Eliot slammed his hand down on the table and stood abruptly, turning the chair over.

Hardison jumped at the sudden noise that intruded on the silence. He watched as Eliot stalked out of the room. It looked like whatever had been brewing under the hitter's surface all day was about to break through. Hardison ran his hand over his mouth and chin, wincing as he heard cabinets open and slam in the kitchen.

Every instinct he had was telling him to leave it alone. But they were family, and family didn't leave each other swinging in the wind. He took a deep breath and followed Eliot to the kitchen. Hardison stopped in the doorway and watched as Eliot poured himself a cup of coffee.

Eliot took a sip, put the cup back down, and then placed his palms on the counter. The action looked very calm, very controlled, but his shoulders were heaving with the effort of keeping it together. Over the last seven months or so things had just built up inside of him. Now, the dam was about to break and he couldn't fucking stop it. He was breathing so hard, trying to keep control that sparkles started to eat at the edges of his vision. If he didn't get rid of this tension somehow he was going to pass out. He grabbed the cup and threw it against the far wall. "Fucking alcoholics!"

The cup shattered, ceramic flying and pinging against the cabinets, a few metal clangs where it landed in the sink. The coffee was splashed against the paint, running down in small rivulets to make a matching stain on the floor.

In the doorway, Hardison jumped as the violence burst out of Eliot. He swore he could almost feel the anger behind the act, a wave of heat that threatened to sear off his eyebrows. He looked from the hitter, hair wild and cheeks flushed, to the coffee splattered on the wall. He licked his lips and cleared his throat. "Hey, man, calm down. Sophie's got it under control."

Eliot was still breathing hard. There was so much trying to push its way out of him. He was filled with anger, pain, and jealousy. He felt an impotent rage at not being able to make Nate better. And love. God, he loved Nathan so much it was fucking choking him. It felt like the guy was destroying his life, ripping him apart at the seams with all his drama, and he still loved the son of a bitch.

He threw open the fridge and started pulling things out. It didn't matter what it was. He had to cook something before he went out and killed somebody. He needed the soothing rhythm of the knife in his hand, the feel of heat as he stood over the stove. He needed the routine to ground him before he flew the fuck apart. He found some bell peppers, some leeks, and a couple of tomatoes. Eliot slammed them on the counter. He didn't bother washing them. He wasn't going to eat them, just cook them.

Hardison hissed in a breath and took a small step back as Eliot yanked a huge fucking knife out of a drawer. It was instinct. All his mind saw was fury and rage and fucking sharp gleaming metal, and it told him to run. He made himself stay put, trying to calm his own breathing. He'd never seen Eliot quite so uncontrolled before. "Hey, man, why don't we leave the sharp objects alone until we calm down a little."

Eliot stopped dicing the peppers and turned toward Hardison, knife automatically twirling in his hand. He pointed it at the hacker and snarled. "It should be me going in there. Not fucking Sophie."

Hardison had his back pressed into the wall by the door of the kitchen. When Eliot had turned the knife toward him he may or may not have pissed himself, he wasn't quite sure yet. For a moment he could say nothing, couldn't even think. That part of his brain that had urged him to run before was now babbling in terror. Then Eliot's words registered, and Hardison's brows pulled down over his eyes. He cocked his head to the side. "Wait . . . What?"

"She's just going to agitate him more. He doesn't need that right now! If I were there I could get him calm."

Hardison stared at the other man, a confused frown on his face. "What? You been living with the guy? How would you know that?"

Eliot's mind cleared a little, realization of what he'd said dawning. He felt the color start to drain from his face. He flipped the knife in his hand again and turned back to the vegetables.

Hardison licked his lips and stepped forward. "What do you mean it should be you?" When he didn't get an answer he walked farther into the room, until he was standing next to Eliot, watching him mince the vegetables. There was a tension radiating off of Eliot that hadn't been there before. It was qualitatively different from the rage that was still boiling under the surface. Everything clicked for him then. All the things Parker almost said, the way Eliot and Nathan were always throwing each other little looks, the subtext that seemed to flow between them, and finally, how tense Eliot had been on this case.

Eliot stopped chopping, tension thrumming through him, knuckles white on the knife. "Hardison, I have a knife and I'm not very happy right now. Back the fuck off."

Hardison backed up, mouth moving before his brain could catch up. "Holy . . . Seriously? Fuck, you . . ." He trailed off, laughing, still stunned. His brain had had just one too many shocks in the last five minutes. It was too much to deal with at once so he settled on what seemed the easiest. "Man, I would've never guessed. I mean, neither of you really seem the type."

Eliot continued to chop his vegetables. Forget cooking them. He was just going to chop them until there was nothing left. He gritted his teeth, the growl emanating from the very bottom of his stomach. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Hardison scratched at his neck, ignoring Eliot. "Wow, man. I'm in shock, sort of. Though I got to admit, a lot of stuff makes more sense now." He stopped his prattle, frowning. "Hey, Parker knew! Why did Parker know before I did?"

Eliot continued to ignore Hardison as he started in on the leeks. Maybe if he did it long enough the other man would go away. Maybe if he ignored the whole situation it would all just disappear. Yeah, and he was Julia fucking Child.

Hardison felt his mouth drop open; the full realization of what this meant hitting him in the gut. "Shit, man. Sophie is going to be pissed!" Before he could blink, Eliot had him pushed up against the wall, knife pointed dangerously at his stomach.

"No, she won't. She ain't going to find out, Hardison. And if she does," He paused to emphasize his point. "I'll know who to come looking for. You got it?"

Hardison swallowed and nodded his head. He waited until Eliot had backed off before taking a breath and rubbing at his stomach where the tip of the knife had been pressed. He was definitely going to need to change his pants. His shock and exuberance at having found out Nate and Eliot's secret was fading and reality was setting back in. "Shit."

Silence fell over the kitchen once more. Hardison finally cleared his throat. "Seriously, I would never have guessed. Nate, maybe, but you, you're so . . . so . . ." He trailed off and shrugged.

Eliot glanced at him a moment before turning his attention back to the cutting board. "So what? What is a bi man supposed to be like, Hardison?"

Hardison swallowed again, the tone of Eliot's voice alerting him he needed to tread carefully. "I just . . . you know."

Eliot grabbed a tomato and started slicing. "You always think in stereotypes? What? Am I supposed to prance around and act like a diva? Is that what I'm supposed to act like, Hardison?"

Hardison scowled. "Oh, and you never think in stereotypes? Computer geeks live at home with their mamma, huh?"

Eliot pursed his lips and then shrugged. It was true.

Silence fell over the kitchen once more. Eliot could feel his shoulders start to burn with the tension. The argument with Hardison had distracted him for a moment but now the worry about Nathan was crowding in on him again.

Hardison seemed to pick up on Eliot's returning tension. "Man, you must be worried sick. I mean, I'm worried, but I'm not in a relationship with the guy. This must be killing you."

Eliot shrugged, stilling the knife. "This is what he needs."

"Still, man, shit, and Sophie's with him and you can't be."

Eliot shrugged and started cleaning up his mess. He was starting to feel tired. He needed some time alone to process everything.

"You should really tell her, Eliot. I mean, I don't know how long this has been going on between you two, but I'm guessing it's been a while. If you guys have long term plans she deserves to know."

Eliot shoved the mush into the garbage disposal, turned on the water, and hit the switch. He waited until the disposal was off and the noise had died down before he responded. "Yeah, I know. But it was Nate's decision not mine. He doesn't want her to know."

Hardison shook his head, eyebrows climbing toward his hairline. He wanted to push it a little more, but he could sense Eliot's exhaustion. He'd been close enough to being gutted for one night. He decided not to push his luck. "Okay, man. She won't find it out from me."

* * *

Eliot had the door to Nate's office closed. He was stretched out on his couch, blinds drawn and lights off. He was trying to wind down. This job was straining him. It was worse than having a gun held at his head, worse than Sophie's acting. He didn't want to go home. There was too much there that was Nathan's. At some point it had stopped being his home and had become their home. He didn't want to be there alone right now. Of course, sitting in Nate's office wasn't exactly doing him any good either. But he needed to feel close to Nathan and being at the office felt less like abandonment than if he were at home, relaxing, while Nate was going through withdrawal.

He swallowed and put his arm over his eyes. Today had not turned out anything like he'd planned. Nate was going to be super pleased about Hardison finding out about them. Eliot's stomach churned. This whole thing was going to give him a damn ulcer. At least then he and Nate could share the same fucking diet of bland food. He rubbed at his forehead as his mind turned to rehashing the symptoms of withdrawal he'd read. It could get ugly, even more so than what he'd seen today. His mind parroted it all back to him. Severe symptoms included hallucinations, heart palpitations, not to mention seizures and death. Yeah, maybe thinking about the fallout when Nathan found out about Hardison knowing their secret was the better alternative after all.

He sighed and sat forward, giving up any pretense of resting. The atmosphere wasn't helping his nerves. The offices were almost eerily quiet. It was disconcerting. Sophie, Nate, and Parker were all at the rehab center. Hardison was off doing something with one of his computers. It was too quiet. The offices were almost never solemn but somehow this felt like a damn wake.

The phone vibrated in his pocket and he dug it out, glancing at the caller ID. It was Sophie. He took a deep breath, eager for an update on Nathan, hoping for good news. "Eliot."

"He's gone!"

Eliot stood off the couch and walked out of Nate's office. His stomach had dropped to his toes, catapulting his heart into his throat. "What do you mean he's gone?"

"He shot out the window and left, took Hurley with him."

Eliot rubbed a hand over his face. Yeah, he was definitely developing an ulcer. "Fuck!"

"Listen, I'm going to leave from here as soon as I can. Until then, I think you and Hardison need to go out looking for him. He's not doing so well right now. He doesn't need to be out there alone."

Eliot growled and disconnected the call before he could rail at Sophie for something that wasn't really her fault. "Hardison!"

* * *

Eliot walked out of the bar and got into his truck, slamming the truck door. He thumped his hands down on the steering wheel repeatedly until he could feel the burn and ache all the way up his arms. This was the seventh bar he'd been to with no luck. He was tired and he was scared. Nathan was out there with Hurley, doing god knew what. He obviously wasn't thinking clearly. It was hard telling what was going through his mind. He could be out there somewhere, hallucinating, or face down in a gutter.

He put his hand to his ear to activate the comm. "Sophie, Hardison, please tell me ya'll got something."

"_Man, I've been to every bar within a thirty mile radius. Nothing._"

Eliot closed his eyes. "Sophie, what about you?"

"_Same here. I've been to all of Hurley's old haunts and no one has seen him._"

Eliot deactivated the comm and tried to breathe through the anxiety he was feeling. When he got hold of Nathan he was going shake him into next week for worrying him like this. His phone vibrated in his pocket and he dug it out, glancing at the caller ID. He frowned at the unfamiliar number, feeling a little trill of fear run through his veins. This was his team cell. Nobody else had this number. "Nate this had better be you."

"Eliot, I need to talk to the team. I tried the office but nobody answered. Can you get them together for me?"

Eliot let his head fall back on the headrest with relief as he reached forward and started up the truck. "Nate, thank God. Where are you? I'll come pick you up."

"No. Eliot, please, just . . . just listen to me okay? I, look, I've got Hurley with me. Get," He paused taking a deep breath. "Eliot, just get the team together for me. I'll call the office . . . I'll call the office in a half hour."

Eliot frowned at the shake in Nathan's voice, at the pain he could fucking hear coming out of his lover's mouth. He pinched the bridge of his nose. "Okay, Nate, okay. Just tell me, are you okay?"

There was a long pause on the other end of the line. "Yeah. Just, Eliot . . ."

Eliot took a deep breath, trying to keep himself together long enough to do this. "What is it, Nate."

"Please hurry."

The phone went dead. "Son of a bitch!" He threw the phone into the passenger seat and threw the truck into reverse. He activated the comm. "Guys, meet me back at the office ASAP."

TBC . . .


	2. Chapter 2

Eliot foisted Parker off on Hardison and watched as Nate trudged toward them, leaving Sophie staring at the rehab facility. He looked like he was ready to chew through an arm. Eliot shoved his hands in the pockets of his Levis and studied the older man. He was pale, still shaking, and acted like he had a hell of a headache.

He was surprised. He'd figured one of the first things he'd do once he was free of the rehab facility would be to get a drink. But from the look of him he hadn't. Maybe this had actually done some good. Maybe Nate realized he had a problem. Maybe now he was ready to quit.

Parker and Hardison were already in one of the cars. Eliot stood between Nate and the two cars, waiting to see what he was going to do. Nathan approached Eliot but wouldn't quite look him in the eyes. He held out his hand, jittery and tense.

As Nate came up beside Eliot and stopped, he could sense nothing from the other man. All he could feel was his body's quiet betrayal. He knew that Sophie was at his back, knew that she was angry, but he couldn't feel it either; just the desperation that was eating away at him. He licked his lips and tried not to sound as agitated as he felt. "You guys go ahead. I'll take the other car and give you guys a call later." He motioned for Eliot to hand him the keys with the hand he had stuck out.

Sophie licked her lips and shook her head. "I think I'd better go with you, Nate. You're still going through withdrawal and you shouldn't be alone." Sophie turned toward Eliot. "You go with Hardison and Parker, help him keep an eye on her."

Eliot frowned and shook his head. He stepped in front of Nathan as he tried to go around him, hand to his chest, and stopped him from getting in the driver's side of the other car. "Uh uh. You ain't driving. Go wait in the passenger side."

Nate stood for a moment, trying to figure out some way to get his way on this. He needed to go now. He'd been without alcohol long enough. His mind was doing ugly things to him, showing him things he didn't want to see. He needed to get numb.

Eliot could feel the waves of tension coming off of Nathan. He could tell Nate was having a hard time holding it together and knew that he wasn't going to be quitting. He felt the small bit of hope he'd had fade away. He sighed. "Go on."

He watched as Nate looked between him and Sophie, finally realizing the situation building there. He licked his lips. "Hurry. I don't want to be sitting in the car all day." He kept his head down and went over to the other side of the car.

Eliot turned and saw the confused look on Sophie's face. He stepped forward and lowered his voice. "Look, he's going to stop at the first bar he sees. Do you think you're up to handling Nate on a bender in a public place?"

Sophie licked her lips and looked through the windshield to see Nathan fidgeting in the passenger's seat. "I could just take him home. Make sure he doesn't drink. This is his third day without a drink. He is so close. We could just make sure he finishes detoxing."

Eliot frowned. He knew Sophie was smart. She just didn't want to see the truth when it came to Nathan. Come to think of it, Nate seemed to have that effect on him as well. Eliot pushed the unpleasant thought back down. He couldn't deal with that right now. "Do you really think you're going to be able to keep him from drinking when he's not ready to quit?"

Sophie shrugged and looked away. She realized it wasn't as easy as that, but she wasn't quite ready to give up either. Nathan was worth saving. He just had to want to be saved. She'd thought maybe she'd be incentive enough. However, it looked like there wasn't anything Nathan would crawl out of his bottle for. "It's worth a shot."

Eliot started to say something but turned as he heard the car door open.

"Would you guys save it for later? I have places to go and if you won't let me go alone then you need to get a move on. You know, at this point I don't care who drives. Just get in the car."

"Hold your horses, Nate. I'll be there in a second." He turned back to Sophie. "It won't matter if he completely detoxes, Sophie. Not as long as he doesn't address the reason behind the drinking."

Sophie tapped her toe, glancing between the man in front of her and the one glaring at her from the front seat. She threw up her hands. "Fine." She brushed the hair off her face. "Just make sure he gets home intact."

Eliot nodded, turned, and got into the car. He started the car and pulled out of the parking lot. He turned the car toward home, hoping maybe he was wrong. Maybe Nate would wait until they got home before he started drinking. He glanced at the man beside him, knowing he was fooling himself.

Beside him, Nathan still hadn't stopped fidgeting. He could feel the growing sense of urgency from the man next to him, like a dog foaming at the mouth. Eliot's gut churned, the bad feeling he'd had since the beginning of this stupid job was coming back with a vengeance.

Nate tried to take a deep breath through his clenched teeth. Relief was so close. He felt like he was going to crawl out of his skin, maybe chew through some wood. Rubbing at a spot of skin above his brow he gestured up the road. "There's a bar up here on the next corner. Stop there."

Eliot tightened his hands on the wheel. "Why don't you just wait? You have whiskey at home."

Nathan dug his fingers into the seat beside him. His skin was splitting apart with everything that was trying to crawl out of him. He just knew it; he could feel it. "Because I don't want to wait until I get home, Eliot! Maybe I want something besides whiskey. You ever think of that!" He stopped and licked his lips, lowered his voice. "Now, either stop and come in with me, or pull over and let me out. Now."

Eliot clenched his teeth but pulled into an empty parking space on the road across from the bar. It was still early enough that there were plenty of parking spaces. Nathan was out of the car and across the street before Eliot had the chance to cut the car off. He sighed and pushed the hair off his face, watching as his lover disappeared into the interior of the bar. At least the place wasn't a dive. He'd give Nate one thing, he usually picked good watering holes.

He climbed out of the car and headed across the road. Looked like Sophie's plan had backfired spectacularly.

* * *

Eliot glowered at the guy who had toppled into him as he slid off his barstool. The evening was quickly wearing on and the place was close to packed. Eliot jostled the guy back and then made sure he gave the barfly the coldest stare he had just so he wouldn't start something. He couldn't concentrate on a bar fight and make sure that Nathan didn't get hurt at the same time. Nathan was beyond drunk, he was smashed. With the amount of tolerance Nate had built up . . . Eliot couldn't even fathom how much he'd drank tonight to get this drunk. He'd seen it, he just had a hard time wrapping his mind around it.

He tried to take a deep breath and winced as his lungs burned from the smoke in the air. This was not his idea of a good time. The bar wasn't even playing any good music. It all sounded like something Hardison would listen to.

He grabbed Nate's arm as he raised it to get the bartender's attention again. "You don't need any more, Nate. Let's head home. You can finish killing your liver there if you want to."

Nathan glanced blearily at his lover, blinking to make his eyes focus where they were supposed to. His body seemed to follow his head and he felt himself start to sway towards Eliot. He blinked as Eliot's strong hands gripped his arms and steadied him. Nathan grinned and threw his arm over Eliot's shoulders, trying to nuzzle into his neck. "Just one more. Then we'll go home and you can put me to bed."

Eliot watched as Nathan tried to leer at him but it came out all wobbly, like the muscles in his face weren't working properly. "You ain't getting one more. I bet you can't even feel your face right now."

Nathan snorted. "I'm way past not feeling my face. I can't even feel my tongue."

"Well, that would explain why you're slurring your words so badly wouldn't it." The bartender started over their way. Eliot shook his head and handed out three bills, enough to cover the drinks and a tip. He stood up off the stool, keeping his hands on Nathan so he wouldn't slide off the barstool. "Come on. Let's get you home. You can finish this little party there."

Nathan opened his mouth to argue but then frowned and shrugged. He hadn't been with Eliot in three days. Heading home sounded good. As long as he could get at the Jameson there. "Fine." He grinned up at his lover. "I'll even let you use the lasso."

Eliot looked around to see if anybody overheard, his cheeks turning red. "Nate . . ." He trailed off and sighed. It wouldn't do any good. He helped Nathan slide off the barstool and tried to guide him to the door, but Nate was pulling in the other direction. Eliot stopped. "Where are you going, Nate? The door is this way."

"Bathroom."

Eliot sighed and steered the other man into the bathroom. He stood by the sink and watched as Nathan stood next to the urinal and tried to unzip himself. He staggered to the left and Eliot rushed forward to grab him. He held him up as Nathan unzipped his trousers and reached in to liberate himself from the fabric. Nathan finally braced himself on the wall with his left hand and Eliot stepped back.

He watched Nathan's back as he listened to the sound of piss hitting the metal of the urinal. He sighed and checked his watch. It was nearing nine. They'd been there for four hours. He had no idea how Nathan was still standing.

When he was finished Nate seemed to have some trouble getting himself tucked back in and situated. Eliot waited, but when it became evident that Nathan wasn't having any success he stepped forward and knelt on the nasty floor. "Here, you don't want to get yourself caught." He started to zip up Nate's pants when he heard the door open.

"What the fuck?"

Eliot leaned around Nate's hip to see the asshole who'd jostled him standing in the doorway of the bathroom. Eliot glared and stood, pushing the hair out of his face. "You got a problem?"

The guy in the door held up his hands and smirked. "Sorry, didn't mean to interrupt you and your boyfriend here. But doing it in a public place here, I don't know, maybe a couple fags like you like being watched."

Eliot growled and started forward but Nathan stumbled and Eliot had to step back and catch him. The guy in the door was smirking. Eliot felt his own face spread in an unpleasant smile. He put Nathan's arm over his shoulder and helped guide him to the door. The asshole continued to stand in the doorway, blocking their exit.

Eliot felt his smile grow. "Your momma didn't teach you any manners." He let go of Nathan's hand and jabbed outward, catching the guy in the throat. The big guy let out an ugly choking noise and then went down.

Eliot stepped over the guy and then helped Nate over him. He let the door close behind him and then led Nathan outside. The cool night air felt good on his overheated skin and he stopped a moment, just breathing. He fucking hated cigarette smoke. He'd have to take a shower when he got home or he wouldn't be able to sleep for the smell clogging his nostrils.

* * *

Once home, Eliot tried to lead Nathan to the bedroom but he wasn't having any of it. Nathan pulled out of his grasp and weaved dangerously toward the couch.

Nathan blinked down at the piece of furniture, trying to make it stay still. He reached out and managed to grab the arm of the sofa and fling himself onto the cushions, mostly. At least he was numb enough that his back hitting the arm that way didn't hurt. "I'm not ready for bed. Come here."

Eliot sighed and ran his hands through his hair. With traffic it'd taken them about an hour to get home from the bar. He'd half hoped that Nathan would've fallen asleep in the car so Eliot could just put him to bed. Of course, that meant he would have had to carry him up the stairs but he could do that. It wasn't that much more difficult than leading and supporting his drunken ass as he weaved all over the damn place.

He watched a moment and then shook his head. "I ain't in the mood to cuddle." He was tired. This case had sucked and the worry over Nathan had worn him down good. He might actually sleep a whole three hours at one stretch tonight. He went to the kitchen and came back out with a glass of water. Eliot sat it down on the coffee table in front of Nathan and stared at him a minute. "I'm going to take a shower. Drink some water while you sit here, Nathan. You've drunk enough tonight that I'm surprised you're still up walking. You need to rehydrate."

Nathan glared up at him, eyes tracking just off to the left. "Stop mothering me and go take a shower."

Eliot shook his head. Nate usually wasn't a sullen drunk but he had his moments. It looked like this was going to be one of them. "Fine, whatever." He started stripping on his way to the bedroom, eager to be free of the smoke stench in his clothes. A hot shower would feel good. Maybe the heat would help ease the tension in his shoulders.

Nathan watched as Eliot walked into the bedroom. He waited until he heard the water start up and then pushed himself up off the couch. He stumbled, but managed to catch himself on the back of a chair. He made his way into the kitchen with the help of some strategically placed furniture. He grabbed a bottle of Jameson out of the cabinet and unscrewed the top.

He turned up the bottle and let the liquid pour down his throat. The onslaught of whiskey didn't bother him this time. His throat was long numbed to the burn of the liquor. He pulled the bottle away before he had it fully upright and some splashed over his chin onto his blue oxford. He brought his head up from blinking down at the spot on his shirt and staggered.

He ended up with his back to the fridge. The coolness from the refrigerator door was soothing through his oxford shirt and he slid down so he was sitting in the floor, propped up by the fridge. This was a good place to sit. It was cool, it was calm, and it was slightly dark. He could feel himself start to calm inside, the turmoil of the past few years starting to fade away; the panic of the last few days sliding into nothingness. A few more drinks should do it, and then he could rest. He just needed a few more.

* * *

Eliot hated to leave the warmth of the shower. The heat had eased the tension in his neck and shoulders, and the headache that had been building in the back of his head had faded. But he needed to get out and check on Nathan. He hadn't turned his radio on so he'd have a better chance of hearing if Nate fell, but the sound of the water hitting the tiles was loud enough that he probably wouldn't hear anyway.

He sighed and turned off the water. Grabbing his towel, he stepped out of the oversized shower. Eliot toweled off his hair, squeezing the ends so drops wouldn't spill down his back, and then ran the towel over the rest of his skin before wrapping the towel around his waist.

He padded out into the bedroom and pulled on a pair of boxers and some sweatpants. Eliot tossed the towel back into the bathroom. He'd take care of it later. Right now, he needed to try and get Nate off the couch and into bed. The living room was quiet and dim, only the one table lamp turned on for illumination.

When Eliot first stepped out into the living room he didn't see Nathan. He'd probably lain down on the couch. "Nate?"

He walked around the couch and frowned at the empty cushions, at the untouched water. He growled and turned toward the kitchen, anger flaring through him so brightly it blinded him. "Nate, you've had enough!"

He rounded the bar and squinted into the gloom of the kitchen. It was dim enough that he probably wouldn't have spotted him as quickly as he did if his body hadn't been in spasm while he vomited.

"Fuck!" He hurried over to where Nate was passed out in the floor, body slumped and legs stretched out along the kitchen tile. He lifted him a little, trying to prop him up so that his body could expel the alcohol without Nate breathing it back into his lungs.

"Jesus, Nate! Come on, man." He held him, grimacing as he felt warm liquid pour over his hand where it was clasped around Nathan's chest. Nathan was insensate, but his body kept heaving, spewing amber liquid and bile over his chest, pants, and the floor. Eliot didn't know where it was all coming from. He didn't think Nate's stomach was big enough to hold everything that was coming up.

Eliot felt his foot slip in the growing puddle and he landed on his ass in the warm mess. "Damn it!" He grimaced but didn't let go of the man in his arms. He kept hold of Nathan, feeling the muscles in his stomach, sides, and back spasm.

Nathan kept heaving and heaving, even after stuff stopped coming up, his body continued to wretch, muscles clenching in a vain attempt to rid itself of more poison. Eliot managed to get vertical, still keeping Nathan in his arms. He half carried, half drug, Nathan out of the kitchen and into the dining area, away from the mess in the kitchen floor. He laid him on his side in a modified recovery position, cradling him, trying to get a better look at him.

"God, Nate, you're cold. Why are you so fucking cold?" His mind supplied him with the answer, hypothermia. He wished he'd never read those damn books. Eliot laid his hand against Nathan's face, his skin felt clammy. He pulled Nathan's shirt off and laid his hand against his chest, trying to sense the rise and fall. Eliot licked his lips and placed his fingers under Nathan's nose, trying to feel his exhalations. Most were shallow and they were all so fucking slow. Eliot could count only about eight breaths a minute. Every so often Nathan would take a huge, stuttering breath, and each time Eliot felt like he was going throw up because each time it seemed to take longer and longer for Nathan to take another one. He swallowed and jumped up, switching on the light so he could see Nate.

He dropped to his knees next to his lover and tried not to panic. He was turning blue! Not just pale and hung-over, but fucking blue. "Nate! Nate, wake the fuck up, man!" Eliot reached out and grabbed the flesh on Nathan's upper arm, twisting cruelly. There was no response from the other man. Eliot jumped up and ran to the bedroom where he'd left his cell phone. He didn't have the ability to deal with this here. Nathan was going to fucking die if he didn't get him to an emergency room.

He ran back to the kitchen while dialing 911. "Yeah, I've got a 40 year old male with alcohol poisoning. He's unresponsive, his breathing is severely suppressed, and he's turning blue. I need an ambulance." He listened as the operator rattled off his address. "Yeah, that's it."

He heard a noise and brought his eyes back up from where he'd been flipping on more lights. "Goddamn it, Nate! Fuck!" He threw the phone, heedless of the operator's concerned voice, and knelt back down next to Nathan as his muscles seized up and his body started to shake.

He knelt by, helpless. The only thing he could do was make sure that Nathan didn't knock into something as he seized. Eliot sat down on his heels, aching to take the other man in his arms, and watched as time kept marching across his wrist.

* * *

Eliot sat in the chair next to Nathan's bed and sipped at the weak coffee given to him by the duty nurse. He shivered slightly. Why did hospitals keep the rooms so damn cold? He took another sip of his coffee and set it down on the bed table to rub at his arms. The nurses had taken pity on him, and given him a pair of scrubs so he could cover his bare chest and change out of his vomit soaked sweat pants. He hadn't taken the time to change before coming to the hospital. He'd just hopped in the back of the ambulance with Nathan.

He looked back at the man on the bed and picked up his hand again, rubbing his thumb over the other man's knuckles. He didn't look much better now than he had last night. At least he wasn't blue. He was still pale, but the cyanotic tinge to his skin was gone and that at least was some improvement. But the sight of him in that bed was frightening. It was one thing when it was him. It was something else entirely when it was someone he loved.

They had Nathan hooked up to both an EEG and an EKG to monitor for more seizures, and to make sure that he didn't experience any cardiac dysrhythmias. They were still pumping fluids in, and there was still an oxygen mask over his mouth and nose. Eliot glanced down at the bag hanging on the side of the bed. He was relieved to see the bag had some fluid in it. Nathan's body was starting to produce urine again. That was good; it meant the dehydration was abating. The color had also improved; it was no longer the darkish amber that signified dehydration.

But Nate still hadn't really woken up yet. The doctors came in every once in a while and did neuro checks on him, but Nathan quickly slid back into sleep, not really seeming to comprehend where he was or what was happening. Eliot knew the doctors weren't happy by the faces they made when they tried to get him to answer their questions. So far they would only give Eliot the party line though. He was resting. Like he couldn't see that with his own eyes.

The past night had driven him to the verge of that precipice he seemed to balance on so often. He knew that sometimes the only thing standing between the living and the dying was a person's will. Eliot had been afraid that maybe since death was looming so near Nathan had just decided to go along, that he'd finally given up.

But as the sun rose and Nate's vitals started to improve he felt his fear turning into a weary sort of apathy. He couldn't even be angry at this point. Forget Nathan, this last incident had just about broken him. He didn't want to ever, ever see Nathan that way again. This was it, the final straw. He'd thought they'd reached it so many times before, but now he knew that those had just been trial runs. This was the last inning and things had to change. There was just no other option.

* * *

Of course Nathan waited until Eliot had stepped out to the hospital cafeteria for something to eat before he woke up. Eliot returned to Nathan's floor just in time to see the doctor coming out of Nate's room. Eliot shifted the cellophane wrapped sandwich to his left hand and nodded to the doctor. "Is there any change?"

Dr. Hamilton glanced over his shoulder as a patient was wheeled down the hallway in a wheelchair, and beckoned for Eliot to move to the side of the hallway. "Mr. Courtney is awake. He's relatively oriented. The last bit of confusion is probably more from the alcohol, and waking up in a strange place, than from the seizure."

Eliot nodded and swallowed. He opened his mouth and tried to say something, but found his throat had closed up. The relief he felt at hearing that Nathan was okay hit him with surprising force. He'd numbed out while waiting for Nathan to wake up. Now that comforting blanket of dissociation was falling away.

He cleared his throat and tried again. "That's good to hear. What about the rest of it." He felt his cheeks start to burn at the wobble in his voice. He wasn't going to fucking cry, damn it!

Dr. Hamilton smiled softly at him. "His lungs sound good and no arrhythmias have shown up on the EKG. I'm going to keep him one more night, monitor his input and output, and make sure his EEG stays normal."

Eliot ran a hand over his mouth and chin. "Thanks, Doc."

The doctor held out a hand to stop Eliot from moving around him. "Mr. Williams, some of the blood work I've ordered has come back elevated." He glanced around and motioned for Eliot to follow him. He led the younger man down the hall into an empty doctor's lounge. "Please, have a seat."

Eliot chewed on the inside of his lip and sat down in one of the softly padded chairs. The relief he'd felt was running out his fingertips and draining through his toes, washed away by a flood of adrenaline.

Dr. Hamilton smiled once again at the young man. "Once we had your friend stable I ordered what's known as a Comprehensive Metabolic Panel. This is routine when we suspect heavy use of alcohol. Some of the tests, mainly the liver panel, came back elevated."

Eliot shifted in the chair and swallowed. He could feel the blood drain from his face. It wasn't really surprising, still his veins filled with ice. "Are you trying to tell me his liver is failing?"

"He's not in liver failure yet, Mr. Williams. However, there is some concern that he has some liver damage. At this point it's not bad enough to do anything about, but we do need to keep a watch on it."

Eliot felt every muscle in his body just go limp. He really needed to get off this roller coaster before it fucking killed him. "I see."

Dr. Hamilton sat forward and met the young man's eyes. "It's very important that your friend stop drinking. Has anyone talked to him about it?"

Eliot didn't know whether to laugh or cry. "Yeah. I'll keep that in mind."

The doctor studied him for a moment more and then nodded. "Okay. He's going to start experiencing withdrawal. We have him on some benzodiazepines to help. They may make him a little drowsy."

Eliot nodded. "Thanks." He left the doctor in the lounge and walked down the hall toward Nathan's room. As he approached the door he tried to think of what he'd say. He was so torn between grabbing the other man up in his arms and knocking the shit out of him that he didn't know what to do.

He glared down at the sandwich in his left hand and grimaced. Any appetite he'd had, had faded away at the doctor's news. He couldn't do this. He would not sit around and watch as Nathan killed himself. He was no fucking Elisabeth Shue and he'd be damned if he'd let Nate pull a Nicholas fucking Cage. This shit just wasn't going to go down like that.

Eliot pushed open the door to Nathan's room and closed it gently behind him. He stood just inside and observed Nate as he lay on the bed.

He was still pale, even the afternoon sunlight didn't chase away his pallor. Eliot found himself looking for any signs of jaundice, but there wouldn't be any. Not yet. He just couldn't help but check. He could see it in his mind; Nathan's sclera and skin tinted a sickening yellow. He knew that from here on out he would always look at Nathan and search for any hint of liver failure. He fucking hated that. When he looked at his lover he wanted to notice the way the black of his hair accented the blue of his eyes or the way his pants fit across his ass. Not the color of his skin, and not the way his hands trembled. He wanted Nathan back. Not this palsied, hollowed out stranger that had taken his place.

His attention was brought back to the bed by a shifting of movement. Nate was staring out the window. He either hadn't heard Eliot come into the room, or he was ignoring him. Eliot came farther inside and crossed in front of Nathan's line of sight, wondering if this lack of attention was from the lingering effects of the alcohol poisoning or from the drugs they'd given him.

Nathan jumped a little as he noticed Eliot. He licked his lips and rubbed a hand over his face, grimacing as the motion pulled on the IV line. "Eliot, I didn't see you come in."

Eliot nodded and sat down in the chair. He tossed his sandwich on the bed table. He winced inwardly as he got a good glance at Nathan's eyes. There were some broken blood vessels from the force of his heaving, causing his eyes too look red and painful. He blinked to keep his own eyes from watering in sympathy. "I noticed. How you feeling?"

Nathan nodded, regretting the action. It felt like his brain was shifting in his head. "Fine. Yeah . . ." He trailed off and swallowed. He studied the cellophane wrapped sandwich on the table over his bed and felt his stomach flip. He tore his attention from the sandwich and made himself focus on Eliot. He frowned as he really looked at him for the first time. "Why are you wearing scrubs?"

Eliot nodded his head, mouth twisting in an ugly grimace. "They tell you why you're in here?"

Nathan stared over Eliot's shoulder out the window, gaze becoming unfocused. "Yeah." He picked at the IV line in the back of his hand.

Eliot knocked Nathan's hand away. "Don't pick at that." He sighed and ran his hands through his hair. "The nurses were kind enough to give me these after you puked all over my sweats."

Nathan grimaced and looked away. "Sorry. I'll get you a new pair."

Eliot clenched his teeth, trying to hold his patience. "I don't want a new pair of sweats, Nate. I want to never have to see you like this again. Can you not understand that?" He stood and paced over to the window. "You know, for a guy who doesn't like hospitals you spend an awful lot of time waking up in them."

Nathan didn't say anything. Couldn't say anything. One, he didn't have the energy, and two, Eliot was right.

After some deep breaths and a few quiet curse words, Eliot turned and faced the other man again. "Are you still going to deny it, Nathan? Are you still going to tell me you're not an alcoholic?"

Nathan remained quiet, staring out the window. He hated that damned word. It was so ugly. It was something he never thought would pertain to him. His hand moved to pick at the clear covering over the IV needle again and Eliot came forward and grabbed his wrist. "I said stop."

Eliot squeezed Nathan's wrist a little harder and then let go. He propped himself on the edge of the bed so he could look Nathan in the face more easily. "You had a fucking seizure, Nate. You almost fucking died. Do you get that? Does that matter at all to you?"

Nathan let his head fall back on the pillow and stared Eliot in the face. It wasn't supposed to be like this. When had it gotten out of his control? If he could just pinpoint the precise moment it got out of hand then he could keep it from happening again.

Eliot watched as Nathan's blue eyes started to shimmer with tears. He wanted to reach out and hold the other man, but he wouldn't allow himself to do it. Coddling Nathan hadn't done anything to help the situation. He had to stop, he had to show Nathan that he meant business.

When Nathan closed his eyes a tear slipped loose, trembling on his lash before breaking free and trailing a wet line down his pale cheek. Eliot took a deep breath, resistance fading; he reached forward and wiped away the tear. "Damn it, Nate, just fucking talk to me, okay?"

Nathan opened his eyes and turned his head, not able to meet his lover's gaze. He didn't do weak very well. It made him uncomfortable, vulnerable. He cleared his throat, hoarse. "I hallucinated."

Eliot frowned and pushed himself up on the bed until his hip was against Nathan's thigh, relishing that small amount of closeness. "When?"

Nathan chewed on his bottom lip, still not meeting Eliot's gaze. It was fucking humiliating to have to admit this. "In the rehab center after I tried to leave."

Eliot nodded, not really surprised by the news. He reached out and laid a hand on top of Nathan's thigh, squeezing lightly. "That's a symptom of the DT's, Nate. Do you understand? Can you admit you have a problem now?"

Nathan finally met his gaze, but instead of looking broken, he just looked hard, pissed. "Yeah, Eliot, I get it. I'm an alcoholic. Are you happy now?"

Eliot felt the knot in his stomach loosen. He'd admitted it. Thank God, he'd finally admitted that he had a problem. Eliot smiled a little, but it did nothing to ease the tightening muscles in his face or the way his eyes burned suspiciously. Admitting you had a problem was supposedly the first step, right? "No. I'm not happy, Nate. But we can get through this. We'll get you some help and things will get better."

Nathan was shaking his head, gut clenching. Yeah, bad things had happened, but it wouldn't happen again. He could handle this. "No. Eliot, you've misunderstood. I admit, I'm an alcoholic, but it's not a problem." He pushed himself up in the bed. "Look, I'm functioning. The alcohol doesn't get in the way of me doing the job. It doesn't stop me from having a full life. I don't need help."

Eliot just sat there, face turning red. He took a deep breath and finally ground out between clenched teeth. "You call this functioning? Really? 'Cause last time I looked, drinking yourself into an early grave was not functioning." He stood up and paced the room. The need to hit something overwhelmed him and he punched the bathroom door.

He whirled around and approached the man in the bed. "How many times in the last few months have you been hurt because of your drinking? Do you know what the doctor told me before I came back in here? Your liver is damaged, Nate. I don't know how many ways I can say it. This is fucking killing you!" He shook his head, breath coming in hard pants through his nose. He pointed to the door. "I have half a mind to walk out that door right now, Nate. If I do, I ain't coming back."

Nathan felt his pulse pick up, his muscles tighten. "Yeah? Go ahead." Nate pushed himself up off the bed, gripping the sides as the room tilted. "So my liver's failing. So what, Eliot! I'd rather be dead than . . ." He trailed off, swallowing. He tried to hold back the sob that tore up his throat.

Eliot stood where he was, not moving any closer, but his eyes softened and he felt the anger fade away, replaced by fear and a deep hollow ache. How could he want to kill the man one moment and then hold him the next? It just wasn't right. "What, Nate? You'd rather be dead than what?"

Nathan took a deep gasp, trying to stop the flow of tears. It didn't matter anymore. He could see where this was going. Eliot was done with him. It was ending, just like he knew it would. "Eliot, I can't live with that movie playing over and over in my head. I can't live with the guilt that crushes me every time I'm sober. Every time I've drunk myself into oblivion I've wished for death. I've just been too weak to do it the right way. I'm sorry I dragged you through this."

Eliot crossed his arms over his chest, trying to hold the ache inside. He approached his lover's bed and sat down on it again. He picked up Nathan's hand and tried to rub some warmth back into it. He had to ignore the talk about suicide. It was too big to handle. He couldn't process it on top of everything else. "You talking about Sam? Is that the 'movie you're talking about?"

Nathan turned onto his side, tried to curl himself fetal, but Eliot wouldn't let go of his hand. He felt so hollow right now he ached. "Please, Eliot, I can't do this right now."

Eliot squeezed his hand and nodded. They both needed some time to process. "Okay, Nate." He reached forward and ran his hand through his hair. "Close your eyes and try to get some rest. I'll be right here."

He sat there, stroking Nate's hair until the other man's breathing deepened and the tension leaked from his muscles. Once he was sure Nathan was asleep he stood up off the bed and pulled out his cell phone.


	3. Chapter 3

Eliot was sitting in a little lounge area just down the hall from Nate's room when he spotted Paul stepping off the elevator. He stood, and set his cup of coffee on the end table before stepping out of the area and waving Paul down. He clasped the man's hand and thumped his back as he was pulled into a hug. "Paul, man, thanks for coming."

"No need to thank me, Eliot." Paul set down in the chair next to the thief, concern written over his face in bold lines. "How's he doing?"

Eliot shook his head, had to take a deep breath. "Not so good. It's been a rough few days."

Eliot managed to tell the priest about Nathan's time in rehab and the subsequent fallout without going into too much detail about the job. When he was done he was drained. He sipped his coffee as they sat in silence, each caught up in their own thoughts.

Paul stared at the pale blue wall paper on the walls. He literally hurt for his old friend. He glanced at the man sitting next to him. Eliot looked worn, tired, troubled. There weren't enough adjectives to describe the weariness he felt coming off his new friend. "Did they say how bad the damage to his liver is?"

Eliot shook his head. "Nah. They said they'd have to watch it and make sure it didn't get any worse." He shrugged and turned to face Paul head on. "Paul . . . I've reached my limit here. I don't want to hurt Nathan and I know this will, but I can't go through this anymore. I don't know how to do this. He's in the fucking hospital and he's just admitted he wants to die. And all I can think is, I can't do this anymore."

Paul nodded, worrying at his lip. "It would be a very hard thing to go through. If that's how you feel though, it might be better to do it now than to wait. Here we can alert the staff of the hospital to watch for fallout. There would at least be something to cushion the after-effects."

Eliot shook his head, swiping at the hair caught on the side of his cheek. "I don't know what to do." He turned away, breathing deeply, and trying to get control of his emotions. He clenched his fists to keep from striking out. When he spoke again his voice was rough, tight with the emotion trying to escape. "Fuck, Paul, I still fucking love him. After all of this I still love him, and I know that if I leave, it will destroy what's left of him."

Paul wanted desperately to reach out to his friend, but knew that such a gesture would not be appreciated. Instead he grabbed Eliot's coffee and refilled it at the stained machine in the corner of the room. He came back and sat the coffee in front of Eliot. "You have to take care of yourself, Eliot. If you need to leave, then that's what you have to do. Let someone else carry the burden for a little while."

Eliot picked up the coffee, staring down into the murky depths. "He needs help, Paul. I just don't know how."

"Maybe if he went back to rehab . . ."

Eliot interrupted him, shaking his head. "No. The stuff in his head, it won't let him rest." He turned to Paul. "He told me he'd rather die than live with the guilt of Sam's death. As long as that's eating away at him he'll either drink or he'll kill himself."

Paul sighed and stood, running his hand through his hair. "Not a rehab facility then. There are some good psychiatric hospitals around here. They can deal with both the detox and the underlying issues."

Eliot had his hand over his mouth, elbow resting on his knee. He shook his head, and glanced back toward the room where Nate was. "I don't know what the answer is, but I think that's as likely to work as rehab. Maybe less so" He rubbed at his face. "I need to get back. I don't want to leave him alone too long."

Paul stopped the other man. "Eliot, when was the last time you got some sleep?"

Eliot shook his head and started around the priest. "I don't sleep that often, Paul. I'm fine."

Paul held out his hand. "Eliot, you're exhausted. If not physically then emotionally. Let me spend some time with Nate. You go home, get a shower, rest, and think things over a little. Everything will look much clearer if you rest and get a little distance from this."

Eliot grimaced down at himself. He'd almost gotten used to the smell, but now that Paul had brought it back up he noticed the stench of vomit on himself again. "Maybe that's not a bad idea." He ran his hands through his hair. "Thanks, Paul." He started out the door but stopped and turned around. "If Nate asks, tell him I'll be back."

Paul nodded and watched as Eliot walked to Nate's room and peeked in, checking to make sure he was still asleep before he headed to the bank of elevators.

* * *

It was dark the next time Nathan opened his eyes. The room was dim; the only light the one above the bed. He glanced at the figure sitting in the chair next to him, expecting to see Eliot, and then glanced again when he saw Paul.

Nathan ran his hands over his face, trying to clear his head. He looked around the room again. It hadn't been a dream. He'd wanted so badly for this to be a dream. He wanted to wake up in bed with Eliot curled around him. It was the only time he felt in control anymore. "Paul, where's Eliot?"

Paul sat forward so the light fell across his face. He smiled, hoping it didn't look as strained as it felt. As a priest, he'd been by the hospital beds of many of his parishioners, given many extreme unctions. But it was harder when it was a dear friend. Seeing this shell of the man he'd known hurt. Knowing he'd done it to himself hurt more. "I sent him home to get some rest. How're you feeling, Nate?"

"Me? I feel fine." To emphasize his point he sat up, ignoring the pain in his head and stomach. He tried to swing his legs over the side of the bed but his foot caught the foley line and he stilled, breath hissing between his teeth.

Paul stood and put a hand on Nathan's shoulder. "Whoa, Nate, where do you think you're going?

Nathan lifted the covers and looked down at the offending catheter snaking out from under his hospital gown. He licked his lips and swallowed. A shot of adrenaline raced through his veins. He didn't understand where it came from, it was just there. He needed to get out of this bed. He needed Eliot. "Paul, call someone to get this thing out of me."

Paul shook his head. "Nate, no, you can't go anywhere. Here, just lie back and rest before you hurt yourself."

Nathan was shaking his head. "No, please, Paul, get this out of me. I've got to go, please . . ." He trailed off as his breathing sped up.

Paul frowned and grabbed the call button, ringing for some assistance. "Nate, hey, Nate, calm down. Listen, you're going to hyperventilate. It's just a urine catheter. I know you've had them before."

Paul continued to watch as the little bit of color drained from Nate's face, leaving him whiter than the sheets on the bed. Sweat had broken out on his upper lip and across his brow. "Nate, come on. Take some calm, deep, breaths. If you die before Eliot gets back he'll kill me."

There was a brisk knock on the door and it opened to reveal a dark haired woman in scrubs. "Is everything okay in here?"

Paul shook his head. "I think he's having a panic attack or something. He woke up and tried to get out of bed, and when he couldn't he started hyperventilating."

The woman came on into the room and approached the side of the bed. "Mr. Courtney? Mr. Courtney, does anything hurt?"

Nate managed to shake his head. "Please, get this stuff off of me. Let me get up."

She checked the monitor and frowned at his elevated heart rate. "Okay, Mr. Courtney, Dr. Hamilton left orders for something to calm you. I'm going to run get it. Just try to relax. What you're feeling is just part of the withdrawal." She glanced at the priest. "I'll be right back."

Paul sat on the edge of the bed, careful of all the wires, and rubbed Nate's back. He tried for a teasing tone, hoping to calm Nate down a little. "Mr. Courtney? When did you change your name?"

Nate didn't respond. He reached up and started removing the wires to the EKG machine. He had to go. His heart was beating out of his chest and he couldn't get a decent breath. Where the fuck was Eliot?

Paul stopped him, grabbing his wrists. "Hey, Nate, look at me. Calm down. Everything is okay."

The woman came back in with a syringe. "Mr. Courtney, try to relax. I'm going to give you something that'll help take the edge off." She rubbed at the IV port with an alcohol swab, uncapped the needle, and injected the contents into the IV line.

Once the syringe was empty, she capped the needle and put it in the sharps box. She came back and rubbed her patient's back in soothing circles while watching the heart monitor.

Nathan started to breathe a little slower, the readout on the monitor calming along with his heart rate. Paul licked his lips. "What did you give him?"

"Just a little Ativan to calm him." She smiled as Nathan finally relaxed under her hands. "Feeling better?"

Nathan rolled his eyes up at her and nodded a little. He was embarrassed, but just now a heavy lethargy seemed to come over him. He lay back in the bed and blinked his eyes.

"I'm Julie. I'm going to be your nurse tonight. Is there anything else you need?"

Paul watched as Nate shook his head. Paul stood and shook the woman's hand. "Is that sort of anxiety attack normal? Should I call his partner back?"

"Anxiety is a symptom of the alcohol withdrawal." She turned and tucked the blanket in around her patient's feet. Julie smiled, dimples showing in her cheeks. "That good looking guy in here with you earlier is your partner?"

Nate didn't really respond, just licked his lips and watched the lights outside the window.

The nurse dimpled again. "Aren't you lucky!" She turned to the priest and then blushed. "Oh, Father, I'm sorry. I meant no disrespect."

Paul shook his head, smiling at the young woman. "Nothing to be sorry about." He watched as the nurse nodded and then made her way out of the room. He turned back to Nathan and scooted his chair up so he could be closer to the bed. "Are you feeling better?"

Nathan licked his lips and reached for the cup of water on the bed table. Paul grabbed it and handed it to him.

Nate took a sip of water and put his head back against the pillow. "Eliot isn't coming back, is he?"

Paul scooted forward, hand resting on Nathan's arm. "He is, Nate. I promise."

Nathan looked around the room. It was odd. He felt calmer now with the drugs in his system, but a heavy sadness settled on his chest, crushing him. "It would be best if he didn't."

Paul frowned and squeezed Nathan's arm. "How is that?"

Nathan grimaced, concentrating on something on the other side of the room. "This is for the best. I can't give him what he needs. Just tell him I'm sorry, okay?"

Paul scratched at his forehead and bit the inside of his bottom lip. Well this didn't sound good. "Nate, listen, I know you're feeling lousy right now but you need to step back and not make any decisions just yet. Eliot is going to be back. I promise. Anything you feel you need to tell him you can do it to his face."

A tear broke free and trailed down Nate's cheek. He sobbed and curled, hiding his face in his arms as he brought his hands to the top of his head. "I didn't mean for it to happen, Paul. I should never have let him close to me. I destroy everything." He took a deep shuddering breath, a hiccup escaping as snot bubbled out of his nose. "Maggie knew. She got as far away from me as she could, but it was too late for Sam. Oh, God, Sam! I'm sorry, Sam. Please . . ."

Paul stood and sat on the bed, tried to gather Nate up in his arms. He should've expected that without the alcohol in his system Nate would start to feel all that he'd shut out. But it was horrifying none the less. It was like he was reliving Sam's death all over again. It was the same exact words he'd yelled the night Sam died. Paul could still hear them echoing off the hospital corridors. "Listen, Nate, please. You're not thinking clearly right now. What happened with Sam, that wasn't your fault. You did everything in your power to save your son."

Nate was shaking his head and pushing at Paul. "No, no, no. He looked to me to make it better. He believed that I could make it better! It should be me! I should've died, would've gladly died to save him. I wish it had been me!"

Paul closed his eyes, still trying to keep Nate still and in bed. "Nate, come on. Lay back and take a drink of water." Nathan was inconsolable. Paul had no idea how he could go through a mood swing so quickly.

"Tell Eliot that I don't blame him. Tell him that I'm sorry I hurt him. Tell him . . . tell him I understand."

Paul finally let go of Nathan, let him curl up into a ball, sobs wracking his body. He didn't know if this was an adverse reaction to the drugs, withdrawal, or just Nathan finally imploding. Whatever it was he couldn't get his old friend calmed down. He reached for his phone and dialed Eliot's number.

* * *

Eliot charged out of the elevator and trotted down the hall to Nathan's room. Even before he opened the door he could hear the sounds of soft sobbing. He pushed open the door and hurried to the side of the bed. "What happened?"

Paul stood up from where he'd been sitting by Nathan, trying to talk to him, to calm him. He backed off and watched as Eliot climbed into the bed with the sobbing man, wrapping his arms around his heaving chest and shoulders. "When he woke up he had a panic attack. They gave him a shot and he calmed down, but then he didn't think you were coming back and got upset again."

Eliot started rocking Nathan, trying to soothe his lover. "Hey, Nate, come on now. You're making my shirt all wet with the tears."

He didn't get any response. Eliot looked up at Paul, frown pulling his eyebrows low over his eyes. "Have you called a nurse?"

Paul sat back down in his chair. "Yeah. They said the doctor wouldn't approve anymore sedative. Julie, the nurse, said it was probably a mood swing from the withdrawal and that he would be fine eventually.

Eliot snarled. He wanted to get up and find the doctor, but he couldn't with Nate cuddled in his lap. He turned his attention back to the man in his arms, laying a kiss against the top of his head. "Hey, Nate, Parker called. She's got another play date with that little friend she made while serving on the jury."

Eliot kept his lips pressed into Nathan's hair, talking. He talked about the rest of the team and about what he'd done at home. He talked about nothing, just waiting for his voice to break through to Nathan.

He wasn't sure how long it had been, minutes or hours, but Nathan had eventually stilled and quieted in his arms. Eliot thought he'd fallen asleep, but he kept up his quiet patter, rubbing a soothing hand up and down Nate's spine.

"Eliot?"

Eliot shifted and looked down at Nathan. He swallowed. He was a little horse from all the talking. "Yeah, Nate?"

"Why are you here?"

Eliot glanced up at Paul and shifted in the bed. "Because you needed me." He was silent a moment. "How are you feeling?"

Nate tried to push himself up and Eliot let him go. "You shouldn't be here."

Paul sat forward. "Nate, he's here because he cares. We both do. You need to let us help you."

Nate turned from Eliot, ashamed at the tears on his face. "I don't need your help. I don't need anyone's help. I just want everyone to leave me alone."

Eliot stood and walked to the end of the bed, staring down at the man who occupied it. Despair was eating a hole in his stomach, anger throbbing behind his temples. He took a deep breath and gripped the foot of the bed. "I ain't going to lie to you, Nate. I care about you, I do. But I can't take any more of this. Watching you do this to yourself is killing me. The last thing I want to do is hurt you." He paused and ran his hands through his hair. "If I had my way you'd be well and we'd be together and none of this would be happening. I don't want to leave you, but it's getting the point where if things don't change I'm going to have to."

Nathan nodded his head but his face remained dry. His tears were already shed. "I understand, Eliot. You need to. You need to get as far away from me as you can." He took a deep breath and curled down in the bed, trying to stop the ache in his chest. "I . . . I think I need to get some sleep now."

Eliot glanced at Paul helplessly. "Nate, please let me finish."

Nathan lay in the bed, apathy making his limbs heavy, limp. He turned and stared out the window, refusing to look at Eliot.

Paul shrugged and sighed. "You go ahead. I'll stay here."

Eliot pulled at his bottom lip but finally nodded. "Yeah, okay. Call me if . . ." He shrugged. "I'll be back in the morning. Maybe he'll be ready to talk a little then."

Paul watched as Eliot strode out of the room and then turned back to Nathan. He was curled up in the bed, cover pulled up to his shoulders and arm throne over his eyes. Paul sighed and yawned. He settled down in the chair and tried to rest a little.

* * *

Paul startled and sat up. "What?"

Eliot looked up from where he was standing by the bed looking down at Nathan. He held his finger up to his lips so Paul wouldn't disturb the sleeping man. He gestured with his head and led Paul outside.

Paul rubbed his face and peered down at his watch, blinking, trying to make his eyes focus. "What time is it?"

Eliot rolled his shoulders. "It's about nine. How long has Nathan been asleep?"

Paul swallowed and pulled at the collar. Most of the time he didn't notice it, but if he'd been wearing it for an unusually long time, it sometimes felt constricting. "He slept off and on last night. Mostly off. He didn't really fall into a good sleep until about six this morning."

Eliot nodded and watched as a gurney was pushed down the hall. "He say anything else?"

Paul shook his head and sighed. "I couldn't get him to talk. He just shut down." Paul studied Eliot. He didn't look anymore rested than he felt. "You don't look like you rested much either."

Eliot pursed his lips and then grimaced. "It wasn't an easy night. Nathan shut down on me before I could finish. We . . . I need to talk to him." He shrugged. "I don't know how much longer we'll be together, but I can't leave him like this."

Paul nodded and rubbed the back of his neck. "I understand. I'm glad he has someone to be there for him. It's a thankless job, Eliot. It takes someone with a lot of strength to do what you're doing."

Eliot shrugged, eyes focusing on a point far off. "It's what I do. I take a licking and keep on ticking. This is just another kind of beating, Paul. I'll get through it."

Paul was silent, a little horrified. It was a little scary to think Eliot was the healthier one in the relationship. He cleared his throat. "Well, if you don't need me I really need to get back to the rectory and take a shower before I head into the office. Will you call me? Let me know how things go or if you need any help?"

Eliot nodded and gave the priest a brief hug. "Yeah, man, thanks. You've really been a lot of help."

"Not a problem. Tell Nate I'll talk to him later."

Eliot watched as Paul got on the elevator before turning and going back into the room. When he stepped back inside he noticed that Nate's baby blue eyes were at half mast. "Hey, Nate, you awake?"

Nathan licked his lips and nodded. He felt confused. Things were hazy and he wasn't quite sure if the last couple of days had been real or not. "Eliot?" He winced as his voice scraped along the sides of his vocal chords, coming out dry and brittle.

Eliot filled a glass with some water from the pitcher, stuck a straw in it, and handed it to Nate. "Yeah. How are you feeling?"

Nathan sucked at the straw, relieved when the cool water hit his burning throat. He shrugged. "I don't know. I'm . . . hazy."

Eliot nodded and sat down in the chair that Paul had vacated. "Do you remember last night?"

Nathan licked his lips and toyed with the Styrofoam cup, picking off little balls of the white spongy material. "Sort of." He rolled his head around, trying to work the kink out of his neck. "Look, Eliot, I understand. I wish . . ." He trailed off and smiled a brittle smile.

Eliot sat forward, forearms braced on his knees. "You wish what?"

Nathan put the cup back down and sat up straighter in the bed. "Doesn't matter."

Eliot shook his head. "You are one hard headed son of a bitch. Do you know that?"

"What do you want me to say, Eliot? That I don't want to lose you? Well I don't! But I cannot . . ." He trailed off and looked away. "You have no idea what you're asking me to do." He rubbed his face over his hands. "You know, this wouldn't have happened if Sophie hadn't interfered and conned me into rehab. If I hadn't been so damn thirsty I wouldn't have drank so much."

Eliot shook his head, eyes sad. "That's an excuse, Nathan. It would've happened sooner or later. Nobody can continue to drink like you do and not come to some kind of disaster. This one's been waiting in the wings for most of a year, man."

"I can't live with everything inside of me, Eliot. The only way-the only way-I can get by is by numbing myself to the point that I don't feel." Nathan glared at Eliot for a long time. "If you can come up with some way to stop it, then have at it! Until then I will continue to drink."

Eliot sat in the chair for a long time, watching as Nate avoided his gaze. Hearing the pain in Nathan's voice as he talked about it brought the whole thing to startling technicolor.

He narrowed his eyes. Could it be that simple? Had it been staring them in the face all this time? Eliot licked his lips. "Look, Nate, I won't pretend that our relationship can withstand this pressure. Right now it's a very fragile thing. But, I'm not ready to walk out that door just yet."

Nathan swallowed but didn't say anything. He wasn't sure how he felt about that. If it was going to end he wished Eliot would just get it over with.

Eliot reached forward and patted his leg. He was afraid of what he was feeling, wasn't sure if he could trust it. But there was a little hope blooming in his chest. With a little help he might just be able to help Nathan out after all. "I'm going out in the hall to make a phone call. I'll be back in a minute."

* * *

Sophie was curled up in the chair, sunning herself and reading the society pages when the phone rang. She grabbed it up off her lap, hoping it would be Nate, or at the very least Eliot. It had been two days since Nate had gone off with Eliot and neither one was answering their phones. She was slightly pissed and a whole hell of a lot worried. She'd gone by Nate's apartment last night, but he hadn't been home and she'd walked away in a huff. He was probably at a bar somewhere.

Her cell rang and she picked it up off the end table, glancing at the Caller ID before connecting the call. "Eliot! Why haven't you been answering your phone? I haven't heard from you or Nate since the other day and I was getting worried."

She chewed on her cuticle as she listened to Eliot. "Sure. What's going on?" She looked around her apartment, glad it was tidy. "Yeah, come on up. I'll be expecting you."

She disconnected the call and turned her face to the sun, breathing deeply. Eliot wouldn't say why he wanted to come over and talk to her. He'd sounded stressed. Something was up. She knew that he and Nathan had developed a close relationship. She thought it was sweet that Nathan had become a sort of father figure for Eliot. But she was a little jealous. Why could he develop a close relationship with Eliot but keep her at arm's distance?

When Nate had brought her on to the team she'd hoped that it would be a new start for them. However, he seemed to be holding her more at a distance than ever. It was infuriating and more than a little distracting.

The doorbell buzzed and she jumped up out of the chair to go to the door. She checked to make sure it was Eliot before answering the door. She bit her lip as she got a good look at him. He really did look haggard, like he hadn't had any rest in a while. "Eliot? What's going on?"

Eliot took the opportunity to look around Sophie's apartment. This was the first time he'd ever been inside. It was about like he expected, fussy. He stood in the entrance of the living room, a little uncomfortable with all the white furniture. Actually, he was a little uncomfortable with this whole situation. He'd be lucky if Sophie didn't try to hand him his head. "We need to talk about Nate."

Sophie gestured to the white couch and curled up in the chair she'd been sitting in before he'd called. "What about him?"

Eliot ran his hand through his hair and stayed standing, arms braced on the back of the couch. "He almost died night before last." He held up his hands as Sophie jumped up from the chair.

"What? What happened? Why didn't you call me?"

Eliot motioned for her to sit back down. The last thing Nathan needed was her rushing in and adding more stress. Hardison was sitting with him right now and he knew the hacker would be mindful of what he said. Yeah, he had Hardison's number. "Sophie, calm down. He's fine. He's at the hospital. The doctors have him sedated and he's resting." Once he was sure she wasn't going to fly out of the apartment he continued. "He had a little too much to drink and had to go to the emergency room."

Sophie advanced on the hitter, face darkening. "You were supposed to be watching him! Go home, you said. I can take care of it, you said. Then you let him drink himself into alcohol poisoning!"

Eliot couldn't help the sneer that twisted his lips or the low growl that his voice dropped to. "My back was turned for fifteen minutes! Don't you go laying this on me!"

Sophie stood, mouth open. She shook her head. "Who am I supposed to blame? Nate? He's an alcoholic, Eliot! He has no control when it comes to the stuff."

Eliot advanced on her, frustration and anger making him gesture violently. "Well, he wouldn't have drunk himself into a seizure if you hadn't tried to push him into rehab before he was ready!"

Sophie stood, shocked at being blamed for this. "I'm only trying to help him! Not like you!"

Eliot clenched his hands into fists and bared his teeth. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

Sophie took a step forward, eyes narrowing. "You and Nathan seem to be very chummy lately. You know, I get that you feel the need for a father figure, Eliot. But enabling him is only hurting him."

"Enabling him?" He was trembling, his heart beating so hard it was going to burst. "You're the one trying to push him into things he isn't ready for! You're the one that stresses him out so bad he can't stand it. He's so fucking scared to be himself around you, thinking you'll leave the team! You sit by and watch him try to destroy himself and all you can think of is how he's not returning your advances! Back off!"

He turned away before he could strike out at her. All of the anger and frustration that he'd been bottling up was rushing out of him, like poison from a snakebite. Everything that he couldn't afford to let lose at Nathan was spilling from him now, leaving him feeling shaky and weak.

Sophie watched him walk away and tried not to show how much that stung. "He needs to involve himself with people, involve himself in relationships. He doesn't need to shut himself off from the rest of the world with alcohol as a great big barrier!"

Eliot turned around, rubbing at his chin. He felt exhausted after releasing the anger that had been building up inside of him. He just wanted to get back to Nate's side and rest a little while. "Look, I came here to ask for your help. If we don't do something he's going to end up dying real soon."

Sophie was breathing hard, flushed. She took a few deep breaths and pushed the bangs out of her eyes. She looked away, biting her bottom lip, before she gestured to the couch and sat back down in the chair. "How can I help? He won't let me get close enough to help him? He won't go back to rehab. I'm at a loss."

Eliot sat on the edge of the couch, afraid of getting dirt on all the white upholstery. He met Sophie's stare. "He's admitted he's an alcoholic, but he denies it's a problem. It's a step forward, but I think we're missing a piece."

Sophie looked pointedly, gesturing for him to elaborate.

Eliot felt an unpleasant grin stretch his face. "We get revenge on Nate's old company. We do for him what we do for all these other people. It might not work, but at this point I think it's our only option."

Sophie rubbed at her bottom lip as she thought it over. "It might work." She let her eyes go unfocused, thinking about a job she'd wanted to do. She'd originally been thinking about a solo job but the team might just be her best way to go about this. She flashed Eliot a glance, not having entirely forgiven him, but if it would help Nate . . . "Wait a minute." She grabbed at the paper she'd been reading before Eliot's phone call. She flipped through the pages until she came to a page with a photo of a very familiar statue. "I think I know how."

*THE END*


End file.
